


Breaking a Claim

by sammichgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Branding, M/M, Soulmates, Wincest - Freeform, bottom!Dean, possessive!Sam, protective!Sam, wincestmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 16:06:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9243281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/pseuds/sammichgirl
Summary: Sam and Dean run into fairies.  Again.  This time, Sam's not letting them take Dean.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day four of wincestmas 2016 for [stephanie-likes.](http://stephanie-likes.tumblr.com/)

The case involved fairies.  They’d tangled with fairies before – well, a bit more Dean than Sam, and Dean was still marked in their realm.

Of course, to solve the case, they had to travel _into_ the fairy realm.  Which left Sam with a limited amount of time to come up with a solution that would work and that his brother would accept.

“What about me getting another tattoo?”  Dean was wading through books on fairy lore, and looking to see what would work against the mark of being the first born and therefore forfeit to Oberon. 

“Hm, I think that would work for protection, but it doesn’t really show that you’ve been claimed in this realm, the human realm.”  Sam was biting his lip because he had an inkling of something that would work.  “We’ve got to prove their claim has no validity.”

“Well I’m tapped out then.  All I’m seeing are sigils to prevent enchantment or for safe passage back and forth between realms.”  Dean shut the book in front of him and walked over to the mini-fridge to get another beer.  He was certainly _not_ thinking about being claimed, in any realm.  He was his own man and not property to be fought over.  As he took a long draught, Sam sighed heavily and closed the laptop lid.

Dean’s radar pinged red alert.  He knew that sigh, and it was never a good sign.  Sam’s next words proved him right.

“I have an idea.  It’s a bit more than a tattoo, and it would be permanent.”  Sam looked over at his brother to assess his mood.  “It would definitely provide what the sigils you’ve found do, as well as show a type of ownership over you.  Something that would void their mark on you.”

Dean’s eyes turned frosty at the mention of ownership.  Yep, that was what Sam had figured on an initial reaction. 

“Or, well.  I could handle this case on my own, dude.  I’ll get the tattoo, deal with the case, and you just sit tight.”  Sam kept a knowing smile to himself because _sitting tight_ was not something Dean Winchester was able to do, especially not when it came to his little brother.

Dean drained the beer bottle and chucked it into the trash can before crossing his arms and levelling his patented Big Brother Stare™ at Sam.  “So what exactly is a _bit more than a tattoo_?”  He knew he wasn’t going to like it.  And it was permanent.  However he also couldn’t abide by letting Sam do this on his own.  Fairies were tricky, no matter the protection.  He watched Sam squirm a minute before he rose up to cross over to Dean.  He had that stubborn look on his face and the puppy eyes in full force.  _Shit._

“Dean, think about this for a second.  I’ve already worked out the design in my head.  The two sigils you’ve found, plus our initials – no, my initials – incorporated into it.  It’ll be painful, but I promise, I’ll help take care of you and it’ll be fine.  And in a spot no one would really see but me anyway.”  Sam was talking rapidly, floppy hair swinging as his head moved, reaching his hands out to rest on Dean’s still crossed arms.  Dean gave a small noncommittal “Mmhmm,” as he waited for exactly what it was Sam had in mind, trying to piece it together, “but it’s not a tattoo?  Then what is it Sam?”

Sam visibly deflated, a whoosh of air escaping as he ran a hand through his unruly locks.  He looked down, and spoke softly, “It’s a brand.”

Dean broke away from Sam’s touch, taking just a few steps before he whirled around and bellowed, “It’s a _what_?  Are you serious Sam?  How is a brand gonna work differently than a tattoo?  And yeah, it would be a helluva lot more pain involved!”  He began pacing the floor, his eyes snapping fire as Sam watched him.  He had locked his jaw tight, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from going off even more. 

Sam watched him, letting him walk in circles and utter barely audible phrases under his breath, letting the steam escape until he could be rational.  After a few minutes, he looked right at his brother until their gazes met.

“Dean.”  Seeing that Dean was about ready to punch something, Sam put up his hands in a non-threatening motion.  He spoke quietly but firmly, catching that emerald stare and locking on.  “Hear me out, ok?  A brand would sink into you in a way a tattoo can’t.  I can’t explain it, but the magic – spellwork – involved is different.  And I’ve thought about it – the ownership isn’t what you’re thinking.  I mean, yeah, we’re lovers, and you usually let me call the shots in that aspect, but this isn’t what that’s about.  Think about it man.”  Dean’s breathing was levelling out, he’d stopped walking and had sat down on the bed.  He was actually listening, which meant Sam was getting through.

“Remember our trip to heaven, the one Joshua wanted us to remember, with Ash?  We’re soulmates, Dean.  And I think we’ve kind of always known that on some level, right?  We belong to each other.  We always have.  That’s something that transcends this worldly plane.”  Sam crossed the small room to sit down right next to Dean, personal space never a thought between them.  Their knees knocked together and the heat from where their thighs and hips touched was a warm comfort.  “And it’ll be enough to break their hold on you in their realm, too.”

Dean bit his lip, thinking it through.  Sam was right.  Dammit all to hell, but he was, Dean knew it.  It was actually a brilliant idea, and he shouldn’t be so surprised by now at how his little brother’s geek mind worked.  He took a deep breath and bumped his shoulder into Sam’s.  They didn’t do chick flick moments, but a lifetime together had forged a language only they spoke.  It was all Sam needed to understand Dean was on board.

“So where do we go to get this done?”  Dean wasn’t gonna lie, this still made him nervous.  Tattoos were nothing, but a brand, he felt a little nauseous thinking about it.

“I’ve already got some feelers out through some hunter contacts.  I’m sure this has been done before, somehow.”  Sam went back to his laptop and booted it up, seeing if any replies had come in, and to do some more research on branding.  He needed to make sure he knew how to take care of Dean afterwards.  He spent the next several hours finishing the design before showing it to Dean.

“Damn Sammy, that looks…” Dean ran his fingers over it, feeling a small frisson of electricity shoot through him.  “Where’s it gonna go?”

“Do you like it?  I tried to keep it simple and functional, but the scrollwork is a little fancy.”  Sam smiled at Dean, trying to not get too giddy about his initials in his own writing being sunk into Dean.  “It’ll go on your lower left hip.  Without a shirt on, you’d barely be able to see it.”

Dean had to admit, it looked better than he anticipated, not too big at all.  Sam had incorporated all the necessary elements very deftly.  When he’d given his ok to it, still feeling a bit queasy about it all but knowing it was the best move, he decided a hot shower was in order.

When he came out, Sam was hanging up the phone.  “We got a hit.  Hunter by the name of Beckett will be by tomorrow to get started.  He should be ready to do it the next day.”

Dean nodded and decided to make a supply run, get some fresh air.  On his way back to the Impala, he stopped when he saw a familiar and not welcome face.

“Ah, Dean!  My boy, it is good to see you.”  The man, no, leprechaun, looked at him and beamed.

“Wish I could say the same.  Wayne, right?”  Dean felt nervous and looked around to assess who else might be a danger to him.

“Yes, that’s how I’m known here.  UFO specialist Wayne Whittaker.  Come now, Dean, I’m not going to fight you in public.  As it is you look like you’re talking to yourself.  I just have a small message from the community.”

“Just a message?  How about you stop kidnapping people and my brother and I will leave you and your kind alone.”  He had no weapon he could easily get to, and arms laden with bags, in an open convenience store parking lot, where no one could see his possible attacker.  He wondered if they could Harry Potter him out in a blink.

“You haven’t changed a bit Dean.  Oberon will indeed be sad to lose you.”  Wayne’s smile turned into a frown, before he shook his head and continued, “But if you go through with the branding, rest assured, our claim will in fact be negated.”

“Seriously?  It’s gonna work?”  Dean worried this was another trick they would play on him.

“Yes, it will work.  We’ve known about your soul-bond to your brother from day one.  We just never thought you’d find or go through with the necessary steps.  And seeing as how once it’s done, you’re free to come after us, we’d like to make a deal.”  The man smiled wide again, but his charm had no hold on Dean.

“I’m listening.”  Dean knew Sam would give him hell, but he needed to hear the man out.  Their case could take a turn for the worse or better, depending.

“Get the brand.  It’s the only surefire way we let go of our mark on you.  In return, we pull up roots here and disappear – and you don’t follow us.  Bonus, we return the missing children unharmed.”

“Sounds like a win-win-win all around.  Except you’re still out there.”  Dean thought the deal was exceptional, and these guys would make the same mistakes again, where he and Sam could follow later.

“It is a win.  For us all.”  Wayne cocked his head, certain Dean didn’t know that because of the claim against him, he was in tune to their realm.  Once the brand was administered, finding the fae again would prove practically futile.  He winked at Dean and disappeared, leaving Dean with a sense of relief and an uneasy peace.

When Dean returned back to the motel and filled Sam in, Sam gave him a small smile, and stretched out on the bed.  “It’s still your call Dean.  I’m not going to force you into it.”

“Sammy, as much as the idea of going through with it makes me think I’ll need to drink all this whiskey I bought to chase the pain away, I do think it’s for the best.  Wayne wasn’t lying about that.”  Dean climbed up the bed to sit astride his brother and leaned in for a deep kiss.  It was the first time in the last forty-eight hours he’d felt that charge between them crackle.  _Soulmates._

Once he was healed from the brand, he’d be eager to ride Sam and feel those large hands grazing over the pattern, strong graceful fingers holding him in place.  He was pretty sure Sam would encourage that too.


End file.
